


Gordon

by Clowns_or_Midgets



Series: The Sound Of Silence [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mild torture, Minor Character Death, Mute Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 12:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19063081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clowns_or_Midgets/pseuds/Clowns_or_Midgets
Summary: Sam is still struggling without his voice, a struggle that becomes so much more intense when Gordon Walker kidnaps him and starts asking questions Sam has no way to answer as his silences means pain.





	Gordon

**_Gordon_ **

 

Sam didn’t know whether John had told Bobby about the demon blood, but he did seem particularly cautious with him following their return from River Grove. Sam knew it wouldn’t have been Dean that told him; he was far too loyal. John was… he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t wanted to tell Sam, and he had said he didn’t blame him, but he had to blame him at least a little. It was natural. Sam had killed Mary, the woman he had loved. Who wouldn’t blame him for that?

Unable to spend too long in the house at a time, he took to walking around Sioux Falls. He knew it worried Dean as last time he had borne witness to the death of that poor woman, but he needed to do something to keep his mind occupied and to give himself space.

He sometimes stayed on the backroads of Sioux Falls, but other times he ventured into town to the library. He could lose hours reading there, without anyone bothering him or needing to speak. He read everything he could find from classics to non-fiction histories. He even indulged in lore occasionally to keep himself informed if he ever made it back to a regular hunt. Not that he was particularly hopeful. He thought the Demon would be the last hunt he would have a part of.

One thing he was decided on was that he would not fall to it. If and when it came for him, to use him for whatever it was he needed, he would make sure he was gone before it could put him to use. He would put a bullet in his brain rather than serve any purpose for that thing.

In a way, he wished he had killed himself in the clinic, when he thought he was infected. It would have been better. He would have died believing he was human; he would not be taunted by the truth the way he was now.

He had spent the morning in the library before early closing had driven him out. He wished he could kill some more time by getting a coffee or seeing a movie, but without his words he was stuck. There was nothing he could do but start making his way back to Bobby’s.

He set off, head down so as not to meet anyone’s eye, and walked out of town. It was only when he reached the roads leading to Bobby’s, where the traffic was sparse and usually bare of other pedestrians, that he raised his head and looked around. He was walking along a large field with high corn growing in it. He remembered one visit to Bobby’s, years ago when he was a kid, probably about seven, in which they’d gone to a corn maze. He and Dean had set off excitedly while Bobby hung back outside, probably to give himself some peace from the task of watching two energetic kids all week.

It had been great, Sam had loved it, following Dean through the twists and turns, laughing, but then Dean had powered ahead, and when he came to a dead end, he realized he must have missed the turn Dean took. He had stood frozen with fear, thinking he was never going to get out. He had called for Dean, and heard him calling back, but instead of closer, Dean seemed to be drawing further away. They had always had a plan in place for if they were separated somewhere, Dean had always been firm on it, so he hadn’t moved. He sat down, his knees drawn to his chest, and tried not to cry, as he knew Dean wouldn’t if it was him.

He was alone a long time before another family had found him and tried to help him get out. Sam had known though, that he had to stay and wait, so he had refused to follow them. He hadn’t been able to speak then either. Fear had stolen his words away completely, the way they were now. He had just hidden his face and waited for Dean.

Eventually he had come, pulling Sam to his feet and brushing away the tears Sam had fought so hard not to spill.

“I’m sorry I lost you, Sammy,” he had said. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

Sam had known that. Dean was always looking after him. He wouldn’t leave him, even for a joke. He took care of him then, leading him back out of the maze and telling Bobby, shamefaced, what had happened. Bobby had smiled and said Sam needed to be a little faster on his feet next time. He’d agreed that John didn’t need to know in case he got mad. He had taken them for ice-cream instead and Dean had made sure Sam got the one with the most chocolate sauce to make up for what had happened.

He had taken care of Sam then as he was trying to do now, but this time Sam couldn’t let him. He had earned his pain.

xXx

He was almost back to Bobby’s, feeling trepidation with each footstep, when a red El Camino passed him. He noticed it as the driver seemed to be paying him an unusual amount of attention. Sam walked on, ducking his head again, and concentrated on the road. He heard the car stop and reverse. He didn’t look back, but he thought it was turning on the road. He realized he was right when it slowed down to coast beside him.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could help me,” the man said. “I need directions to Bobby Singer’s house.” He was African-American and had hard eyes that weren’t matching the smile on his face. The eyes and mention of Bobby made Sam sure he was a hunter. He couldn’t give directions, even if he had wanted to, so he shook his head and carried on. The car continued past him, and he thought maybe the man had gotten the message, but he didn’t carry on. He stopped the car a dozen feet in front of Sam and climbed out.

“I just need a little help,” he said. “You know where he is, right?”

Sam shook his head and skirted him.

“Come on, Sam, don’t be like that,” he said with a laugh.

Sam froze. He had never seen the man before, but the fact he was addressing Sam with familiarity and amusement made him sure he was trouble.

He tried to pass him, but the man caught his arm. Sam tried to yank himself away, but his grip was too strong. Holding Sam in place, he smiled and then swung a fist through the air and slammed it into Sam’s temple. He was knocked to the ground and his vision swam, but he remained conscious. He tried to get to his feet, but he felt a blow to the back of his head and he collapsed forward, his vision darkening as his head hit the hard asphalt.

xXx

Sam wouldn’t talk. Not the way he usually wouldn’t, his words stolen, he wouldn’t even try to communicate with Dean anymore. Dean tried every day, with direct questions he would be able to answer with a nod or shake of the head, and more probing ones that Sam would have found a way to answer somehow before. He got no response. It was like Sam was mad at him, though he knew that wasn’t the case. Sam was mad at himself.

Stupidly, senselessly, and in the way only Sam’s mind could twist around on him, he was blaming himself for what had happened when he was a helpless baby.

The Jessica part Dean could understand. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. But to blame himself for his mother’s death was plain wrong. Sam had no fault in it at all. And the demon blood… Why didn’t he understand that it didn’t make a difference to any of them, least of all him? Sam was his brother and John’s son just as he had always been. Nothing had changed. They still loved him as much as they ever did. Dean couldn’t make him understand that, though, so he did the only thing he could to help, which mainly meant letting him go now. Sam went for endless walks. Dean didn’t know what he did when he was gone for hours at a time, but he didn’t push for an answer. If Sam wanted him to know, he would have found a way to tell him. He hadn’t, which meant he didn’t want to.

Sam had been gone a few hours, and Dean didn’t expect him back for a few more, so he was killing time reading one of Bobby’s books on demonology, hoping he would find something in there they could use against the demon. John and Bobby were in the kitchen, talking quietly while Bobby stirred something on the stove. He was just reading a page dedicated to exorcisms when he heard banging on the little used front door.

He set the book down quickly and got to his feet. “Expecting anyone?” he asked.

Bobby shook his head. “Best go see who it is.”

He walked into the hall and Dean followed. When the door was opened, Dean saw a pretty woman with a heart-shaped face and shoulder length brown hair. She was agitated, and started speaking the moment they door opened.

“Man, this place is hard to find. Would it kill you to have a website? I had to ask a cop where it was, and they warned me off coming.”

“And yet here you are,” Bobby said. “Who are you?”

“Ava,” she said, pushing past then and walking into the library. She looked around. “Wow. You have a lot of books.”

“Is there something you need?” John asked.

“Yeah, I’m here to help.”

Bobby frowned as he crossed to the counter and picked up a flask of holy water. He uncapped it and splashed her face.

She sputtered and wiped at the water dripping down her chin. “Was there a reason for that? Asking out of curiosity. I’ve never been greeted like this before.”

“She’s not a demon,” John stated as Bobby shook his head.

“A demon?” she asked shrilly. “Now I know why the cop didn’t want me coming here. You’re crazy. Is this some kind of cult? Are you a cult?”

“A cult of three?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she said. “How would I know how they work. I guess every cult has to start somewhere. Anyway, it’s four. You’re forgetting the tall one. Where is he by the way?”

“What do you know about him?” Dean asked.

“Where is he?” she asked, irritated.

“Out.”

“Damn. I’m too late them. Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but I think the tall one is in trouble. I saw something.”

Dean’s heart raced. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Sam?”

“Sam? Huh. Well, he’s in trouble. There’s this man, African-American with a crazy look in his eyes and this overly neat goatee. He’s got a red car, classic looking, that’s got more weapons in it than any single man should ever need.”

“Gordon Walker,” John spat.

“Got to be,” Bobby said. “What does he have to do with anything?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Duh. Aren’t you listening? He’s got Sam.”

Dean stepped into her space and grabbed her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Ava paled and Bobby dragged him back from her. “What do you know?” he asked, his voice calm despite the emotion roiling in his eyes.

“This man, Gordon, had Sam in an old barn somewhere, tied up and bleeding. Sam was…” She shook her head. “It looked bad.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the shock, and then blew out a breath and spoke in a deceptively level voice that concealed the fury in him that he was fighting not to direct at this woman. “Where is this barn?”

She moved back from them, edging towards the door, and said, “I don’t know. He might not even have him yet. I saw it a couple nights ago, and it took a few days last time before the guy died, and…”

John cut her off with a growl. “What do you mean saw it?”

She shook her head. “I had this dream, like a crazy intense nightmare, of a man being stabbed in a parking lot. I thought it was just a dream but a week later I saw the picture of the man in the newspaper with an obituary. I checked it out. It was just like I saw. He was murdered. I didn’t want to believe it, I still don’t, but that dream came true and when I saw Sam and that man I figured I had to come do something about it. I saw a card with this place on it fall out of Sam’s pocket when Gordon took his phone and figured I should start here. He’s your family right?” She looked between John and Dean. “You look kinda like him.”

“He’s my son,” John said.

“And we have to find him,” Dean said, swallowing down the lump of fear.

John started as if coming out of a daze. Dean had been caught up in the woman’s story, too, and it had momentarily driven the fact of Sam’s capture and imprisonment out of his mind.

“What does this barn look like?” Bobby asked. “Was there anything distinctive about it?”

Ava considered. “It was red and needed a fresh paintjob. That’s all I can think of.”

“Bobby?” John said. “Sound familiar?”

“A red barn in South Dakota?” Bobby shook his head. “He could be anywhere.”

“GPS!” Dean said, dashing across the room to the laptop and loading the tracking page. “He swore he’d keep it turned on after that car wreck.”

“Find it,” John said.

Dean nodded tersely and entered Sam’s number and password then drummed his fingers impatiently on the table as he waited for it to load and Bobby strode out of the room, muttering about getting loaded up.

“Do you know what he wanted from Sam?” John asked Ava.

“He was asking all kinds of questions about the ‘others’. He seemed to think Sam was part of some group of freaks.”

Bobby came into the room tucking his aged revolver into the back inner pocket of his jacket and said, “Freaks?”

“I’ll tell you later,” John said then addressed Ava. “Look, we’re going to get my son back, but you need to stay here until we’re back. It’s the safest place for you.”

“What? No! I need to go home. I did what I needed to do, I told you what I saw, now you can go rescue him and I can go back to my nice normal life.”

“Life isn’t normal for you at all anymore,” John said. “You’re here because you had a vision. My son has visions, too. That’s why Gordon has taken him. You have to wait here until he’s been dealt with or you’re offering yourself up for pain, too.”

Dean let his words and warning wash over him as the page loaded and Sam’s location blinked on a map. “Here!” he said. “He’s off Turner Pass. Gordon must already have him. We’ve got to go!”

He ran outside to the Impala and popped open the trunk to load himself with weapons as John yanked open the driver’s side door and threw himself in and tapped the horn. He slammed the trunk and got into the car beside John and threw him the keys as Bobby got into the back, carrying a bulky box that Dean recognized as his comprehensive first aid kit.

The idea that Sam would need that turned his stomach. He was going to kill the man that did this to him. Gordon Walker, whoever he was, had to pay for daring to touch his little brother.

xXx

Sam’s wrists burned from where they were held above his head by ropes, suspending him from a beam. His shoulders were locked with the strain, and he knew that if he ever got out of this, he was going to suffer for it.

Not that he was sure he would.

He knew if his family knew what had happened, they would come for him and save him, but how would they know where to find him? They could track his GPS, but they wouldn’t be expecting him home for hours, and by then it might be too late. There was a mad look in Gordon’s eyes that told him he was running out of patience and was going to lose it completely soon and kill him.

“One more time, Sammy, where are the others?” Gordon asked.

Sam closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Even if he was able to talk, he would tell Gordon nothing. The only one of the people Gordon was searching for that Sam knew about was Andy, and he wasn’t handing him over to this maniac, even if it would save his life.

And it wouldn’t.

Sam had heard enough to know that it was going to end with his death. Gordon knew he was psychic and he knew that it was something to do with the demon. He seemed to think that Sam was working for him. Sam couldn’t argue his case, but he didn’t think it would make any difference if he could. Gordon wasn’t going to be persuaded that Sam was anything but the freak and monster he’d been calling him since this interrogation began.

“Not talking still?” Gordon asked. “You freaks must have a high pain threshold. Almost a demonic one. Makes sense, I guess. I’ve seen them take a lot of hurt, too.”

He strode forward and held his long, thin knife to Sam’s right eye. He brought it so close that Sam’s vision blurred trying to look at it, and Sam held his breath as he waited to see if this was another threat, as the knife to Sam’s jugular had been, or if he was really going to take his eye.

It hadn’t started like this. When Sam had woken up, hanging from the beam, Gordon had introduced himself and explained that he just wanted to talk. He started asking his questions about the other ‘freaks’ and Sam had just glared back at him, wordless as he always was now. It was as time passed that Gordon grew angry and started to hurt him. He’d cut away Sam’s shirt and began drawing shallow cuts in Sam’s chest with the knife. They burned and bled freely, but none of them were deep enough to do real harm. It was the implicit threat of more to come that made them hard to bear.

“Should I try holy water?” Gordon asked, lowering his knife. “Are you enough of a demon freak to be affected by that?”

Sam turned his face away and ignored him, but Gordon was fast to grab the bottle and bring it to him. He gripped Sam’s jaw and dragged it down and upended the bottle so the holy water poured into his mouth and then down his front as Sam gasped and choked on it.

“No, apparently not quite enough of a demon for that,” Gordon said. “I guess it’s back to basics.”

He threw the bottle away and picked up the knife from where he’d set it down. He pressed it to Sam’s chest right below his left nipple and drew it down, cutting into Sam’s skin and making more blood flow.

Sam gritted his teeth to allow no sound of pain to escape him, and Gordon laughed.

“Seems like we’re getting somewhere at last,” he said. “You’re wearing down. Soon you’ll be spilling all your little secrets and then I can get on with my good work on the others like you. You’re only hurting yourself, Sam. Give it up and it’ll be over faster…”

He stopped and tilted his head to the side. Sam concentrated, too, and heard the distant rumble of a familiar engine drawing close and cutting off.

Gordon grinned. “Seems like the cavalry has arrived. Maybe they’ll be more chatty than you. I figure they’ll be a little more talkative one they see you bleeding out.”

He pressed the tip of the knife to Sam’s throat again and broke the skin so a trickle of blood dripped down. Sam didn’t dare try to get away from the blade, as he was sure Gordon would cut his throat and move his attentions onto whoever came through that door.

It was the Impala that he’d heard, which surely meant Dean. The only hope Sam had was that he’d not come alone and he’d not come unarmed.

xXx

John stopped the Impala on the side of the road and they all jumped out and set off towards the barn with it’s faded red paint together at a sprint.

Dean’s heart was racing and his breaths were coming fast from fear, not exertion. Sam was in there with some maniac called Gordon and, if Ava was right, he was hurting.

John and Bobby had told him a little about the man on the drive, that he was a hunter that specialized in vampires and was a bit of a renegade. He often went for the hurt before the kill and was possessed of a cruel twist to his nature.

The fact someone like that had his brother made Dean feel ill.

He reached the doors first and was on the point of dragging them open when John grabbed him around the chest and dragged him back.

“Wait,” he grunted in Dean’s ear. “If we go in fast, we’re more likely to get Sam hurt. We’ve got to be smart.”

“He has Sam,” Dean hissed.

“I know,” John said, a crack in his voice. “And I want him out of there now, too, but I’m not risking his life because we’re too fast.”

“Your daddy’s right,” Bobby whispered. “Let’s check the place out, see if there’s another way in. If we can go in at the same time, from different directions, we’ve got a better chance of taking him out before he can do anything to Sam.”

Dean nodded and John released him then pointed at Dean at the right of the door. Dean pulled his gun and, gripping it tightly, walked around the barn as John went left, looking for another door. They met at the back of the barn, and John shook his head and said, “Nothing. You?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. “We’re all going to have to go in the front together.”

 Together, they strode around the barn to where Bobby waited and then Dean froze as he heard a shout of pain from inside and a voice he didn’t recognize saying, “You might as well come in. I know you’re out there. You might want to leave your weapons out there or I’m bleeding Sam like a stuck pig.”

His breaths coming as pants, Dean pushed open the door and entered the barn, his gun gripped tightly despite the warning, and John and Bobby on his heels.

What he saw inside made his heart fail. Sam was hanging by ropes from a ceiling beam and Gordon had a knife pressed against the side of his throat that a trickle of blood was flowing down from. Sam’s chest was littered with cuts that blood dripped from with each of Sam’s heaving breaths. Despite the fact he had to be scared and in pain, Sam was defiant as he looked at the man that held him, hatred in his eyes.

“Weapons on the floor or Sam is a dead man,” Gordon said.

Sam shook his head, his lips working with the words they knew he couldn’t speak. Gordon pressed the knife in a little deeper and Sam’s jaw twitched.

“Now!” Gordon shouted.

“Do it,” John said, bending down and laying his gun at his feet.

Dean and Bobby did the same then, at Gordon’s instruction, kicked them away.

“Okay,” Gordon said, satisfied. “Maybe you’ll be a little chattier than Sam. He’s not given up the goods yet. See, I heard from a demon that Sammy here was part of some generation of freaks in a demon army and there were big plans for him. I’ve asked nicely for the names of the others, but he’s not talking. Which of you is going to give them up?”

Sam stared at his father and there was a clear warning in his eyes: tell him nothing.

When the silence stretched, Gordon sighed and said, “Look, I’m not a bad man. I don’t want to kill a human, but these kids aren’t human. You know that, don’t you? Sam’s not human.”

Sam winced and Gordon grinned.

“Truth hurts, don’t it, Sammy? Honestly, John, I’m surprised at you. You too, Bobby. I thought you’d be strong enough to do what has to be done. I know you care about him, maybe you even think you love him, but he’s a monster. I’ll do it for you. Tell me what I want to know and I’ll put him out of his misery. It’s the kindest thing for all of you.”

“Hold!” Sam shouted, his intense eyes flickering between them.

Gordon frowned. “Hold? What the hell’s that about?”

“He can’t talk,” John said. “Something happened to him. He can’t find the words.”

Gordon shook his head. “That explains it. It makes it easier even. He can’t talk so he’s no good to me. I’ll deal with him and you can tell me what I want to know.”

He pulled the knife back and gripped it in a fist, preparing to drive it into Sam, but John was faster. He pulled a small gun from the inner pocket of his jacket and fired three quick shots into Gordon’s chest.

He dropped the knife and wavered on his feet, falling sideways onto Sam and then dropping to the floor. Dean ran forward and picked up the knife from the floor and reached up to cut Sam free as Bobby and John approached Gordon who was breathing in rasps and coughing up blood that trickled down his chin.

“You’re going to do it, John,” he whispered. “One day you will see the truth and you will kill him.”

John raised his gun and growled, “Never,” as he sent one last shot into Gordon, right between his eyes.

“Help me,” Dean said, struggling with the ropes as Sam groaned in pain.

John took the knife from him and cut them while Dean supported Sam as he slumped forward. Sam got his feet under him and stared into his father’s eyes, a question in his face.

Dean knew what he was asking his father, but he didn’t think John did, and he didn’t know how to ask it for him.

John cupped Sam’s cheeks and said, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head and then stared intensely at his father again. This time John seemed to see the question.

“No, Sammy,” he said firmly. “He doesn’t know us and he doesn’t know you. You are none of the things he said, and I will never, _never,_ hurt you. Tell me you know that.”

Sam didn’t move for a long moment and then he nodded.

John gripped the back of his neck and ducked his head so he could look into Sam’s now downcast eyes.

“I swear it, Sam. I won’t let anyone hurt you, least of all me.”

Sam nodded again and Dean thought he saw the truth of John’s words sinking in at last.

Bobby cleared his throat. “We need to get out of here. Sam needs to be taken care of and I don’t want to be found here with that bastard’s body.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “We’re going. You okay to walk, Sam?”

Sam looked down at the body on the floor and then nodded and started towards the door, his footsteps were slow and his breaths hissed from pain, but he was handling it as he always did.

Dean fell into step at his side, ready to catch him if he faltered, and he ran over what had happened in his mind.

If demons were talking about Sam, it meant news was spreading. How long were they going to have until the yellow-eyed demon put his plans into action? What was going to happen to Sam and Ava when they did? That woman was locked in Bobby’s house right now, and it was going to take some smooth talking to persuade her not to go to the police since they essentially imprisoned her, but Dean thought the police were the least of their issues, Ava’s included.

Unless he was wrong, the demon was going to be coming soon, and they had no idea what it was planning. They had to find him first.  


End file.
